


Where My Demons Hide

by rosamund_mary



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Emotions, Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, Gen, Human Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 08:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosamund_mary/pseuds/rosamund_mary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Dean tells Castiel he's not welcome in the bunker, Cas retreats to the woods to understand the emotions and struggle he faces in the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where My Demons Hide

It’s the feeling of the phantom step. Climbing the stairs, and the pattern of movement is so familiar that once the top is reached and you’re prepared to take the last step it vanishes and you’re falling through air. Stumbling, you right yourself, ashamed that you let your mind be fooled by one simple step.

 _“Listen buddy, you can’t stay.”_ Castiel had never felt this feeling until Dean spoke those words. After days of struggling and fumbling, after being born again unto the earth with hundreds of questions and no one there to answer them, and after being reunited with the family he so desperately craved, Castiel found himself fooled again. He is at the top of the stairs and tripping over air because his foundation is gone.

 _“You can’t stay. You can’t stay. Can’t stay. Can’t.”_ The words repeated in his head over and over as he tried to think of all of the possible meanings, other than the obvious. This had to be one of those jokes he doesn’t understand. Dean wasn’t going to make him leave. But, normally by now Dean would laugh with the missed punchline and Cas doesn’t see why Dean would think this is funny.

Dean’s silence makes it quite clear that there is no hidden meaning. Dean is telling him to go. It’s all Castiel can do to keep his emotions in check as he starts to nod slowly. Standing up from the chair he turns and walks towards the stairs, up and out of the bunker without another word to Dean.

Castiel would be lying if admitted that he was disappointed that Dean did not attempt to follow him. Had he been so wrong to believe that he would now reside in the bunker? Was it so foolish and naïve a notion that Cas could belong with the Winchesters? 

Castiel found himself walking aimlessly through a clearing in the trees around the top side of the bunker. He had no idea where he was going, but anything was better than sitting in Dean’s presence when there was no guarantee his treacherous human emotions would not reveal themselves. No, wandering amongst the trees seemed more fitting. That was where he had landed the first time he fell, after all. Castiel came to a gathering of branches that led way to the trunk of a fallen tree. Running his hands over the rough bark, Castiel found his vision clouding and his breathing hitched. 

He lowered himself to the fallen tree and succumbed to the pressure building in his chest. The wetness on his face betraying him so openly was the one human experience Castiel had not set free, yet, here in the quiet of the woods and leaves, his chest heaved with an unwilling sob.

He cried for the loss of his Grace. He cried for failing his brothers and sisters, and for demonstrating once again that he never could get it right no matter how he tried. He cried for the lives he left in his wake throughout his quest to prove himself. He cried for Jimmy, the innocent devout man whose family had been torn apart like the seems of his old trench coat. He cried for Kevin, and for Sam, both of whom had futures once laid ahead of them that now were centered in the midst of a war of heaven and hell. And he cried for Dean.

The Righteous man Castiel had pulled from hell and meticulously pieced together as he cradled his tortured soul. The soul that had shone so brightly in hell that Castiel could not contain his joy, and rejoiced for all to hear when Dean Winchester was Saved.

Castiel wanted to yell. Wanted to get into Dean’s personal space like he knew would push his buttons to demand reason. Why had Dean searched for him so desperately before only to turn him away when he needed him most? Why scour all of Purgatory, enlisting the help of a vampire and nearly costing his own life to find Castiel? Why rescue him from the reaper? Why not let him die from the wounds inflicted of his own blade? The blade that could make his death most ironic, now that he could contemplate it. What was once the only weapon that could destroy him could have become the weapon his fragile human body yielded to in the end. But fate had other ideas. Dean Winchester had other ideas. He wanted Castiel to live, but not with him. The one soul on earth that ignited the flame of his own was casting him away. He knew that there must be a solid reason for the sudden change of heart, but it scarcely mattered anymore. The secrets and lies they had between each other tallied too many and too heavy to carry any longer. 

Castiel’s breathing evened out eventually. The woods continued to be peaceful as the trees cast shadows in the setting sun. He must have been out here longer than he had thought. A slight chill blew through the air and Castiel shivered slightly. Reaching his hands into his hoodie pocket, he felt a small slip of paper. Castiel took the paper and read the small print of a fortune. A kind stranger had given him a stale cookie wrapped in plastic that which held this slip. He hadn’t thought about it’s meaning or implications until this moment sitting in the woods. He scrubbed his hands over his face to rid the evidence of all of his demons that surfaced in his time of vulnerability. 

Castiel stood as he came to a decision. He would go back to the bunker and face Dean, and be able to hold the man’s eyes as he bid him goodbye. Castiel had survived being controlled and manipulated. Survived wars, won and lost. Survived falling from Grace and crash landing in humanity. Now as he made his way back down the path in the dying sunlight he understood that final human emotion that he had not been able to place until now. 

When he got to the bunker, Dean was waiting for him outside the front door. He sat with his head in his hands and a few empty bottles near his feet. Castiel approached him and Dean rose to look in his eyes. Castiel took Dean’s hands and folded the tiny paper into his palm. He held onto the other man’s hand for a few fleeting moments as Dean looked between their joined hands then up to Castiel’s face. 

“I understand, Dean. I’ll make my leave come morning.” Castiel then gently dropped Dean’s still clenched palm and moved quietly passed him inside.

Dean stood on the threshold for several seconds before he seemed to remember the paper in his hand. He unravelled the crumpled slip to reveal a mass-produced fortune cookie paper. In tiny blue print, the words confirmed everything Dean had ever denied to himself and to Castiel.

_“If you love something, let it go.”_

He carefully folded the paper back and put it in his coat pocket. They would make it through this. They always do.

**Author's Note:**

> Idea inspiration from Somewhere Only We Know by Keane  
> Title inspiration from Demons by Imagine Dragons


End file.
